


Journals and Brothers

by Guardianite



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: M/M, Red Dead Redemption 2 Spoilers, and swearing the whole darn time, if you haven't played the game or completed chapter 1, just two cowboys being artistic, written at midnight without coffee so may be some repeating words or general mistakes, written from a brotherly perspective but can be whatever you make of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 16:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardianite/pseuds/Guardianite
Summary: After being chased from their pitch at Horseshoe Overlook, the Van Der Linde gang begins setting up at Clemens Point and returning to normal routine. John Marston, still trying to find himself, decides to bug Arthur Morgan when he returns to camp and try his hand at drawing in the outlaw's journal to mixed reactions.





	Journals and Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> A short headcanon piece as to how John learns and decides later in his life to keep filling in Arthur's journal as the epilogue progresses.

“Will you stay still for one minute damn it? I can’t draw you when you’re wiping your face and breathing every five goddamn seconds.” John Marston scowled at the sturdy man sitting on the stool opposite him and hopelessly reached for the rubber eraser beside him. The man shook his head and grunted under his breath to the smaller, skinnier man.

Arthur Morgan then peered at John with a knowing gaze. “If you’re really wanting to learn this whole drawing thing boy, then first thing you’re gonna have to work on is that memory of yours. Art is an illusion of the creative mind, or some shit like that.” Arthur shifted back into his pose and then uttered quietly “and that annoying temper of yours.”

John gurned. “I heard that.” He began to furiously scratch into the smooth paper journal. “Bitch.”

There was a few minutes of peace while the scarred young man continued drawing and occasionally swearing under his breath at both the page and Arthur. Life around the new camp at Clemens Point seemed good and the closest to normal any of the gang have seen so far. After the whole business in Valentine and the unnerving feeling of being watched by Pinkertons hired by that rich bastard Cornwall looming over them, everyone seemed to be going back to their normal routines. Dutch and Hosea were quietly planning what to do about that town Rhodes nearby, Pearson was busy cooking up the nightly stew dinner, Miss Grimshaw was giving Miss O’Shea grief again and Abigail Roberts was walking past the scout campfire where John and Arthur were sitting and drawing, almost cackling like a drugged hyena as she noticed what John was up to. Micah Bell was also out of camp for some unknown reason, thank _fuck_.

Arthur eventually stood up and stretched his legs. “Sorry boy, getting cramps over here. Let me see how you’ve done.”

John was still for a moment, and then breathed out. He was suddenly feeling rather nervous and he could not figure out why, which in turn irritated him. “I don’t think you’ll really wanna see this, pretty boy.”

The stocky man practically marched over to John and swiped the journal from his hands causing his sitting brother-in-upbringing to yelp in surprise. 

He scanned the drawing for a good few seconds as John looked up and watched intensely. Much to John’s dumbfoundment, his older gang brother smiled and gave him a rough pat on the back. “Not bad ol’ scarface, I'm sure you’ll get the hang of it someday.” He complimented.

John finally broke. “Just...just _how_ do you fucking do it, Arthur? I mean, it’s all so hard. The details, the fancy shapes, remembering shit. Hell, Dutch’s spelling lessons back in the day seem like a goddamn drink at the bar compared to this.” The skinny outlaw grumbled. “I guess...I was just curious and wanted to try my hand at something creative for once that wasn’t shooting a fella 5 times in the head.” He looked up and was met with Morgan, who was now struggling to not erupt into a fit of laughter.

The broad outlaw snorted. “Boy, truth is I ain’t got shit to tell ya. These things just come naturally I guess.” He went to take some rum out of his satchel and took a swig. He handed the bottle to Marston who gladly took a big gulp from it. Arthur continued. “I guess...I just kept at it really. At first I was just drawing sticks of people and circles that looked like a sheep’d gone demented, but then after a while it was like I knew what I was doin’. Keep at it, boy, but get a journal of your own instead of sneaking through mine. You’s lucky I ain’t asking Bill to do his special balls treatment on ya.”

John glared. “You do realise how absolutely _dumb_ you sound right now, right?”

Arthur snorted again. “Ain’t you got a lil’ fella to be taking fishing soon, boy? Or will it be another 2 hours of hearing nothin’ but shit from Abigail while Micah puts shit into that son of yours' head?”

John then stood up and cracked his back. “That’s if he even is my son...well, was good spending some time with you, pretty boy.” The two men’s attention was brought to Dutch leaving his tent and beckoning Arthur over to talk with him. “Don’t go off shooting up that town now. We’re already on the run from shooting up another.”

As Arthur began heading over to where Dutch was smoking, he muttered under his breath out of John’s earshot. “Ain’t promising shit, scarface.” The outlaw huffed. “Especially with how Dutch is dealing with all this mess...”


End file.
